A Requiem of the Past
by Xeerie
Summary: Post movie ending: Two to three years later. Fate decides a twenty-first century woman's path now resides in the nineteenth century world of the Phantom. Will their shared losses connect them or will their differences divide them? Paring: Eric/OC


**Author's Note:**

I was originally introduced to POTO through the 2004 movie and I am currently just starting Susan Kay's novel _Phantom_. This means I know little in the way of other interpretations and will try to work some of the other versions in if and when I can, but I'm going by the most recent movie for guidelines.

Yes, my version of Erik will be that of Gerard Butler's personification and all of his Scotsman glory. Don't like? No one is forcing you to read this. I am familiar with his Erik for reasons stated above; I am just now delving into the other tales, so I will stick with the one I have a better knowledge of. I have altered his appearance and age slightly, but not beyond recognition; his deformity and a few traits are tailored a bit, but nothing more.

This chapter is unbeta'd so it is a little rough. I tried to catch most of it, excuse the mistakes.

* * *

_**A Requiem of the Past:**_

"_Fate is a misconception, it's only a cover-up for the fact you don't have control over your own life."_ –**Anonymous**

_Prologue:_

Fate: for some reason the adjectives of terrifying, depressing, wondrous, and devastating just didn't hold the same connotations regarding such an entity anymore. Fate was cruel, yet I still could not bring myself to regret all the events that led up to this pinnacle of despair. Where I now laid, broken and drowning in my own self-loathing was proof. Proof that everything you thought you never wanted or could have could turn out to be everything you ever asked for and desired. I hated fate, and I hated myself. If my notorious streak of bad luck had anything to do with this disaster that created a hell out of a haven, I hated it too.

Who would have known that within a year's time my entire life would be flipped upside-down then rattled to the point where everything shattered like glass? My world would crumble twice. The first time I was too stubborn not to rebuild it. The second time was where I now stand; amongst the ruins of a future I was so foolish to think I had a right to reach out and grasp. I never saw any of it coming; like the Titanic, I had been heading straight for my own undoing, blinded by ignorance. That day when it all started, that day I despised so much now, _that_ day….

* * *

_Chicago, November 5__th__, 2009_

Everyone has their own stories to tell about life; how I got my nickname, why I married your mother, when your father got his first car. Stories that make up our lives and help define us as who we are by those moments of significance and what we did to bring us to those events. Those moments, they change us; for the better or worse is in the eye of the beholder, but they affect us nonetheless. Or so I have been told by some.

So far, my life and the story that brands me for who I am have held few adventures and far too many missteps. Maybe that's why I doubt the supernatural others see so easily? Reality is an ugly truth that blinds one's sight from the make-believe; people talk about miracles that seem grandiose, gossip of magic wonders, preach of inconceivable destinies. I stopped believing in the fairytales a long time ago. There are still those that insist that the extraordinary can happen. Of course, to accompany those sentiments there are claims out there that impossible things have and still can take place.

November 5th 2009 was my twenty-third birthday. So I now found myself seated in the back of Kayla's black Cadillac Escalade, driving through the clustered streets of Chicago. Kayla Brown, my first friend I made when I moved to the windy city, was the outgoing bubbly type. She was the person that loved huge parties and celebrations. Out of curtsey to her extravagant ways I indulged her with my patience every time my birthday rolled around. This year was no exception.

My birthday plans were all a surprise. To keep everything in the dark – both figuratively and literally – Kayla blindfolded me, shoved me in the back of her car, and drove off before I could argue. I had hoped to let the day pass without recognition, just a nice dinner with my longtime boyfriend of three years, Chase Fenn. When I had gotten home from work, it had been a rather hectic day at the Psychiatrist's office; he had been nowhere to be found. He had promised to be back from his business meeting in time for dinner. Lying little bastard!

"Stop grimacing already, Lacey!" Kayla scolded from the front seat.

How I wish I could see her! Then I would know if that amusement in Kayla's voice was on her probably smug face as well. The picture of Kayla's heart-shaped face spotted with subtle freckles and sporting a huge grin popped into my head. Before I was blinded by the black bandana I had managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of her. Usually her straight light brown hair was up, but not tonight. It had framed her face with side swept bangs and straight layered sheets that fell to just past her collarbone. Her brown eyes had held enough mischief in them to make Tom Sawyer look like a saint.

"What do you expect someone that is blindfolded to do? Smile and sing Wheels on the Bus?" I retorted sarcastically.

I heard a sigh. "Lacey Carlyle, would it kill you to enjoy a surprise for once?"

"Yes, it just might if you're resorting to these antics now."

My internal clock told me it was two minutes later when we stopped. The car door opening then shutting happened twice. Seconds later my blindfold was removed and sitting next to me was the one person I was actually pleased about seeing today, Chase.

He smirked at me, his thin pale pink lips spreading into a smile that revealed a set of white teeth. The naturally tanned skin and bright blue eyes marked him for what I'm sure some would consider your stereotypical dream guy. Imagine my relief at seeing him, until my usually observant eyes took in the rest of his body. Chase was outfitted in a gray t-shirt and dark green flannel pajama pants. _And why the hell does my boyfriend look like he's going to bed?_

"What do you think?" he asked cheerfully.

I stared at him, my face I'm sure revealing my bafflement. "What do I think of what?"

That is when I chose to notice two plane tickets sitting in my lab. I looked up to ask what was going on but Kayla was a step ahead of me. "We got you a late flight out of Chicago for you. Congratulations! You're going to Paris, France!

"I will be escorting you there of course." Chase added with a wink.

Why was it that I was always so unobservant at times like these? Had I not been being a total twit I would have noticed we were sitting outside the airport. Now I understood why my assistant had insisted I take the week off. It also explained why Kayla had asked me to meet her for a quick cup of coffee before kidnapping me, so Chase could pack.

_Face, meet desk._

* * *

I had been staring out my first class window for an hour now. Boarding the plane and saying goodbye had been the easy part. Sitting around on a commercial airliner as it flew over the United States and off towards Europe was not so simple. Chase had run off ten minutes ago, I assumed to use the bathroom or something trivial. From time to time I would glance around and see if I couldn't spot his strawberry blond head, but no dice.

Now I knew first class was expensive but it had cost us no more than an average second class seat. Our original flight had been full and they switched us to another one, which delayed us for three hours. So we got first class seats to make up the difference. There were only a handful of other people on this later flight; first class was empty besides us two and four other people.

It was a quite flight so far. I'm not surprised though, we took off at ten o'clock at night and it was now five minutes past eleven according to my ipod. Everyone was hunkering down for the long flight. This made it easy to tell when someone was coming; there was virtually no other activity. Naturally I noticed Chase as he entered my line of sight again; sitting down next to me and grinning like a crazed man.

Before I got the chance to figure out what he had been up to one of the flight attendants appeared, carrying a small dish. Placing it in my lab the fair haired woman offered a smile before strutting herself away. I smirked as I watched her try to keep her balance as she walked in a pair of black heels that looked positively lethal.

"Well?" Chase pressed when I didn't open the silver lid right away.

I threw him a questioning glance before opening it to reveal a small chocolate cupcake with a tinny pink and white stripped candle a flame. My smirk grew as I turned back to Chase with an arched brow. He shrugged it off with an indulgent smile.

"Happy twenty-third birthday Lacey. Now blow out the damn candle so you can make your wish and I can go to sleep."

Yup, same flippant boyfriend I've been enduring for three years now. I wonder if that meant we were supposed to evaluate our relationship or something. What did couples do when they were getting to that point of normalcy? We moved in together six months ago, though neither of us was ready for marriage. In fact, we had just recently recovered from a rather large blow out. It left me wondering if maybe moving on from this relationship would have been better.

Chase could be sneaky, indiscernibly so. I had caught him talking to more than one girl on occasion. Though what really got me was the cocky know it all attitude that always made him so vindictive when it came to getting his way. I had thought about a possible separation but it had seemed like Chase was honestly trying to clean up his act.

Pulling back my curly dark brown hair and leaning over slightly I blew out the candle. The only wish on my mind was for a sign, or something, to signal if my life was on the right course. Something that would lead me to the path I was meant to take. My grandfather often talked about everyone finding their calling in life, not always being what we expected and discovering it at the opportune moment.

No sooner had I blown out the petite flame then a loud boom of thunder sounded outside the plane. Lighting flashed bright yellow somewhere below us. My attention was riveted to the window. Chase just threw a pillow behind his head and closed his eyes, ignoring the storm. I was fascinated to experience my first storm in the air. It wasn't what I expected, though. There was turbulence and I felt like I was going to be sick from the jarring motions.

Pushing up from the seat I was in, I clamored over Chase and into the isle. My pale white hands fumbled for my two carry-on bags – which I was shocked to see they let me take two decent sized black sports bags on my person into the plane. I was looking for my Pepto Bismol. It wasn't in the first one, so I checked the second.

A frustrated sight escaped my lips as I zipped up the Nikey bag and proceeded to stand once more. When I looked up it was just in time to see a light blue light rip the air in a lightning like zigzag pattern. I heard crackling, the closest thing I could link it to at the time is that of a firecracker going off on Fourth of July. Light burst before me and my hand instinctively tightened on the strap of one of my bags while the other rose up to shield my eyes.

I felt a pull, or was it a push? Either way I was aware of a force acting on my body and then nothing. I felt like I was flying threw a hurricane and the roaring sound of wind was deafening. My mind was just barely aware of the fact that I was twisting around in a series of flips before a loud _smack_ greeted my ringing ears.

A horrible churning feeling possessed my stomach. I wanted to wretch up the contents in my belly but I hadn't had anything in hours, there was nothing to heave up. Horrible dizziness had my head spinning and my mind reeling when I tried to stand from my kneeling position. What the heck had just happened? Dazed and more than a little confused I tried to get my bearings on myself.

Groaning my discomfort didn't help my predicament but it sure felt good. I would have a migraine soon, of that I was sure of. A full minute lapsed by before I finally found the strength – and my equilibrium too. Standing after something like that was indeed a miracle. It took more out of me than I thought it would, but I managed to bring myself up to my full five feet and eight inches.

When I dropped my gaze to inspect myself I found my black leggings now had dust clinging to them, my keen high black books were the same. A little brushing got rid of most of the damage, though my clothes would need washing. My body felt intact, sore and aching, but I doubt there were any broken bones. However, my knees would probably be sporting some major bruising for the next week or so.

I glanced around me; my hand that previously held out to block my eyes now cradled the left side of my head. If anything was apparent to me in my half dazed state it was I was no longer on the plane to France. To me, it looked like I was standing in some war zone left abandoned. Huge arching walls rose up around me. Statues decorated the place and a thick layer of dust and derby coated everything. Gold… and maybe marble were the materials that lay beneath the grim, I think. To top off the already immensely extravagant vibe was a large stairway that had two conjoining stairs meeting halfway down and forming the huge end of it with a decent sized platform in between.

_Well, I'm not in Kansas anymore._

The style of the building I now found myself in was… different. I'd never been an artistic person, or that good at architecture. I lacked sorely in that department, my drawings were usually that of stick people. Impressive, I know. My craft was in science, and that didn't help me now when figuring out the type of structure could help assist me in assessing where exactly I was. All I knew was the place looked to be built in an earlier century and defiantly wasn't an American creation. With how provocative some of the statues were and based on the grandiose make, my guess was in the ball park of the 1700's to 1800's.

Ogling at my surroundings left me unaware of a presence steadily growing closer. My head was tilted all the way up, my neck arching as it craned to satisfy my curious gaze that swept over the high ceiling that was formed in a dome like shape. _What was that saying? Oh, yeah! Curiosity killed the cat._

I never saw him, but when he spoke my concentration immediately snapped down at the attention demanding volume of his deep voice. "My I know why someone is trespassing in my Opera House?"


End file.
